


Paint By Numbers

by WaldosAkimbo



Series: Charlie and The Scientist - A Study in Mutually Beneficial Affection [2]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Body Paint, Fluff, Fluffyfest, Frottage, M/M, Praise Kink, cuddle time, just two dudes being bros, shower, who are also in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15099416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: And that was better. Charlie joking, the Scientist laughing. That was how he envisioned spending their time and was glad to return to it.“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling against the crease of his arm. “I won’t peek.”“Better not.”---Charlie has an idea to do something special with the Scientist.





	Paint By Numbers

**Author's Note:**

> Did you ask for some more soft charbitch content? I hope you did.

“Dude, can I paint you?”

The Scientist blinked, tearing his attention away from the lengthy documentary they had been watching together—this one was about string theory, which, while difficult to follow at times, had some entertaining people involved in the production. The Scientist had hoped it would keep Charlie preoccupied, since he had a recent obsession with space, space travel, and a misguided understanding of alternate realities and little green people. Ghouls, he had explained.

The document had kept his attention, but not nearly long enough.

“Beg your pardon?” he asked, mishearing what Charlie had said.

The Scientist looked like he was waking from a nap, probably because he had somewhat drifted off there for a moment. Mentally, at least. The show droned on and he had let himself enjoy the quiet of their lazy Sunday. They were approaching midterms at the university and his brain was fried from helping his students prepare. He had not had the energy to help plan schemes that would get the Gang either in further trouble or racing out of it, nor to play Nightcrawlers or even to go check on the disturbing number of cats that were living around Charlie’s old apartment.

“Can I, like…can I paint you,” Charlie said again, looking up from the Scientist’s lap.

He should have known Charlie had lost interest in their latest film when he laid down for a few absent-minded head scratches. It was when he had stopped stroking Charlie’s hair entirely that he must have thought it prudent to speak. Charlie squirmed again, eyes darting away when the Scientist looked down at him.

“Paint me? Like a portrait?” the Scientist asked, smoothing down his hair again. Oh, but he did love petting Charlie’s hair. “I’m afraid we don’t have any canvas and we would—”

“No.” Charlie sat up, curling his knees up beneath him. He looked very much like a scruffy pup then and the Scientist had to resist the urge to stroke his peppery whiskers. “Not like that, although, yeah, totally. I would love to do that. Give you, like, a whole fancy portrait and shit? And definitely not some smug, hoity-toity old guy in a white wig nailed to the wall.”

The Scientist gave in to his simple urge and ran his fingers across Charlie’s beard.

“I’m afraid I’m not following,” he said, stroking Charlie’s chin and cheek until he closed his eyes and leaned into it. A terribly guilty pleasure to see. “What would you like to paint?”

“You,” Charlie answered again. Before the Scientist could ask for more clarity, Charlie pulled his face away and leaned against the armrest, curling up into himself. He did this when he was frustrated. More importantly, when he was frustrated with himself because he couldn’t articulate what he desired. “Never mind. It’s so stupid anyways.”

“No,” the Scientist said, carefully pulling Charlie away from the arm rest. “No, I’m sure it’s not stupid. Could you…show me?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” Charlie said with a disgruntled sigh, falling stiff against the Scientist until a few more gentle pets of his hair made him relax. Even just a little. “You’re gonna think it’s weird and you’re gonna think _I’m_ weird. Just drop it. Play your movie already, man. We—”

“Charlie,” the Scientist said, drawing his name out. Hoping at the very least that the sound of his voice would smooth away some of that worry. “I would love for you to paint me.”

“You would?” His voice cracked through a rusty squeak and it only made the Scientist laugh. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not just saying that.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“’Cause we need to go to the store, like, now if we’re gonna do it.”

“I’ll get our coats,” the Scientist said, and kissed Charlie’s temple.

\---

While having the actual supplies cleared things up, the Scientist didn’t feel as confident about all of this as he had when they went to the store to purchase them. Charlie had been insistent about what he would need, same as the Scientist was insistent about getting non-toxic, _washable_ paints. They read through the listed ingredients, checking labels and warnings until they settled on the package that was now swinging back and forth like a pendulum in the plastic bag. It was easy to praise Charlie when he worked out the words for himself, beaming all through the store, the walk home, and when he fished out his keys to unlock their flat. Just, the actual activity itself seemed…well, daunting was the only word he could come up with at the moment.

“And you’re sure this is the activity you want to do today?” the Scientist asked, closing and locking the door behind him.

Charlie was already headed for the bathroom, fetching the towel he had promised to lay down for them.

“Oh, totally, Doc. You don’t even know. It’s, like…okay, you’re just gonna have to trust me, dude, alright?”

“Alright,” the Scientist muttered to himself. He breathed deeply, if only to settle that fluttering feeling in his chest.

“Doc?” Charlie called out from the bedroom and Scientist quickly licked his lips, putting on a brave face as he entered. “C’mon already. I won’t bite.”

Charlie sat cross-legged on their bed, the towel spread out on the Scientist’s side. He had taken off his grey sweatshirt—a favorite of his that the Scientist always associated with cats and comfort, though he wasn’t entirely sure why; there was no cat print on it to speak of—and had on one of his old t-shirts with far too many holes along the seams to be deemed appropriate. Charlie patted the towel and then held out a hand.

The Scientist could hardly deny him now. He crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Shall I lay on my back, or…?”

“No, dude. Oh my god,” said Charlie, putting down the tube of blue he’d been holding expectantly. He got up on his knees, crawling over the mattress and the towel and tugging at the Scientist’s shirt. “You gotta…ah. Can I take off your shirt?” The Scientist struggled to tug his shirt back down into place, fighting to keep it on while Charlie attempted to remove it. He leaned in closer, tilting his head just so. “Please?”

Lord help him, it was fetching when he asked like that.

The Scientist eventually relented, letting Charlie undress him—top half only, thank you—and sat there awkwardly hugging his arms to his chest and curling over to hide himself. Charlie wiggled up almost directly into his lap, pushing back on the Scientist’s shoulders to look at him. His pink tongue kept sticking out at the corner as he hummed to himself. The Scientist felt himself blush and could not very well meet his gaze.

“Yep, see, that’s a good canvas,” Charlie said quietly. “Gotta loosen your arms there, Doc, or else I can’t get all of you.”

“How much of this are you going to do?” he asked, unable to keep all the whining out of his voice.

Charlie looked up, pulling his hands back. It was an instant reaction, his eyes lost and sad and the Scientist could kick himself for his tone.

“If you…don’t _wanna_. I don’t wanna make you—”

“Oh no. No no.” The Scientist quickly grabbed Charlie’s hand before he could slip off the bed completely. “No, I’m sorry. Of course I want you to. I’m, well. I’m a little embarrassed, you see.”

“Embarrassed?” Charlie tilted his head again with an incredulous, infectious grin. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

“I don’t?”

“What, no! You’re so handsome, dude? What’re you even talking about?” The Scientist ducked his head and thought the splotchy red on his skin couldn’t burn any brighter, though Charlie didn’t seem to notice. “Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise. Sit back. You know what? You can lay down on the towel because that might actually be easier. Yeah.” He pushed on the Scientists shoulders, guiding him down onto the bed. The Scientist gulped, blinking rapidly towards their headboard. “See? Now isn’t that better? So much more comfortable. Right, Doc?”

“Right,” the Scientist answered, but had to clear his throat before he could say it again, more clearly this time. “Right. Yes.”

Charlie shifted away, grabbing something that the Scientist could not see. Probably because he put an arm over his eyes to hide himself. Not that he was ashamed—he was—but because he had not had an opportunity to share such intimacy with Charlie. Not like this. The two often cuddled on the couch and Charlie had expressed that he slept far better when the two of them were in bed. And, yes, they kissed. They kissed often. Sometimes with an unnerving amount of passion that left his head swimming like hot soup. Sometimes, even, Charlie would let him bathe him, once with swim trunks and the rest with copious amounts of bubbles and clear terms of what was and what was not allowed. And while that was all perfectly lovely, the Scientist found himself biting the inside of his arm to keep things as chaste and as respectable as they had been. One might even say platonic. Two “dudes” being “bros.” Who made out.

The Scientist bit his arm a little harder.

Then something cold dribbled on his stomach and he yelped, breath hitching as he tried to get away from it.

“Hey, whoa. Sorry about that, Doc.” Warm hands pushed him back down, the unmistakable tickle of beard brushing against his chest as Charlie bent over and kissed him. Nothing lingering or lascivious. Just something to soothe him. “I’ll keep the rest of them in my lap. That should warm them up. You okay?”

“Yes,” the Scientist whispered, breathless.

“Okay.” The Scientist lifted his arm to be sure that Charlie knew he was alright, only to get a grin and a quick pat. “No peeking, Doc! You gotta let me paint you first!”

And that was better. Charlie joking, the Scientist laughing. That was how he envisioned spending their time and was glad to return to it.

“I’m sorry,” he said, smiling against the crease of his arm. “I won’t peek.”

“Better not.”

Even with Charlie’s warm hands and attentive, innocent touches, the Scientist could not help but wriggle from the ticklish sensation. Charlie had to smooth his hands down a few times and effectively pin the Scientist in place, waiting until his giggling fit had passed. Then, thankfully, he seemed to become desensitized, at least to the ticklish aspect of it, and relaxed with a gentle sigh, dropping his arm next to him on the pillow. He did not open his eyes, promising not to peek.

“You sure you’re not looking?” Charlie asked, his voice close and soft as he concentrated on a patch on the Scientist’s chest.

“I promise,” he answered dutifully, grabbing onto the pillow when a wandering finger slipped over his nipple. Nothing of it, just filling in the colors. He relaxed soon after, letting himself be lulled by the attention instead of unnerved like he might usually do. It was akin to getting a massage. Or just rubbed down by your adorable fuzzy boyfriend. No, best not think like that. “How much lo—”

“Almost there,” Charlie answered back, clearly focused on his work. “Almost there.”

A lie, but hardly an egregious one at that. Charlie painted first with broad swatches, smearing paint with what felt like the whole flat of his hand, then smaller and smaller as he dabbed little details here and there, carefully running his finger pads over the places he had missed or that he needed to fix up. It was tempting to look, but the Scientist made damn sure he kept his eyes closed, breathing deeply until he was just on the verge of falling asleep.

He must have been close to snoring because he was startled to feel Charlie kiss his cheek. His eyes fluttered briefly, but he kept them trained to the ceiling, humming his approval.

“How’s it look, darling?” he asked, stretching his arm up to stroke Charlie’s hair.

The Scientist focused on Charlie, his smile tightening when he noticed streaks of blue and green and yellow all across Charlie’s face. He thumbed some off his moustache, grateful they had picked out nontoxic paint. Not only because he was currently covered in it, but because Charlie would not be tempted to huff later when he thought he needed that to pick himself up—the Scientist would be there for that, too, and help him through it without the use of inhalants. That was a bloody promise.

“You are going to need a bath,” he said with an affectionate smile.

“Yeah, probably.” Charlie nuzzled into the Scientist’s hand. “We can do that later.”

The Scientist would have to lie if asked why his heart fluttered so hard then. That the choice of “we” instead of “I” made him warm and wanting. He hid this by clearing his throat and sitting up enough to rest on his elbows, looking down at his chest. He had not expected to be so mesmerized.

The entire canvas of his body had been transformed into a starry sky, galaxies swirling across his hip, colorful clouds of stars billowing up his abdomen and racing up to a constellation that traced around his heart. And then, of course, floating amongst the stardust were little green figurines, an inch or so in height, some of them transforming into raptors. He tilted his head, struggling to keep himself upright as he traced one of the raptors.

“Oh, right, yeah. So, I was totally doing the stars and all because, like, obviously. They’re the most romantic of all the sceneries. And I was going to paint our solar system but I kinda forgot the order they go in again, so I was just doing, like, super colorful galaxy stuff because I thought that was nicer anyways. And I know you said constellations are supposed to look like things, but they’re just groups of stuff, man, and, so, I put a group there and that’s our constellation, right? And then I was like, well, you gotta throw in some ghouls. Aliens could be ghouls, and then one of them got smooshed a little because I dripped some and so I made that one into a velociraptor and we should totally watch Jurassic Park, dude, it has scientists in it too and they—”

The Scientist tugged on Charlie’s wrist to get his attention, snapping him out of his breathless ranting. He forced himself up, holding onto the back of Charlie’s head and closing the distance until they were merely inches apart.

“I love it,” he whispered, brushing his nose against Charlie’s. “You did a marvelous job.”

Charlie smiled sheepishly, eyes crinkling from the compliment. “Yeah?”

“Yes. May I—”

Usually, the Scientist liked to ask for permission before he kissed Charlie, to be certain that he was comfortable with it and if his boundaries had moved that day as they often did. It was not Charlie’s fault and it was hardly an inconvenience to ask, as he often initiated them anyways. But Charlie pushed forward, eliciting a surprised moan from the Scientist when kissed. He grabbed a fistful of Charlie’s hair, pulling up to meet him better, with perhaps more exuberance than he should have. He was at least certain to keep it dry, as it were, humming his pleasure into a very pleased, bearded smile.

“You don’t have to ask all the time, Doc,” Charlie said, separating enough to breathe. At least their foreheads were still touching.

“I think I must,” the Scientist said, still smiling back.

“Okay, well.” Charlie wiggled a little, mulling something over. “Only if you think so. It _is_ kinda nice, though.”

“And that’s precisely why I do it.” The Scientist pecked him on the nose, given that consent had been granted, at least for this moment. “You are so talented, Charlie. Would you like to paint more?”

Charlie squinted again, turning those wonderful mental gears of his, before he shook his head. “Nah. I like how this one turned out but it’s hard to have to concentrate on all the little details. And my neck kinda hurts.”

“Oh.” The Scientist rubbed along Charlie’s neck, squeezing and releasing to help with circulation. “I am sorry to hear that. Would you like me to get you something?”

“No.”

Charlie sat back on his haunches, admiring his work. While it was still a little uncomfortable to sit there without a shirt on, at least the paint gave the illusion that he was wearing _something_ , and he did not mind so much that Charlie was gazing at him. But it was apparent that something was on his mind. The way he swayed back and forth, having an internal debate.

“Are you sure?” the Scientist pressed, reaching for him again.

Charlie quickly grabbed up the Scientist’s hand and held it before he could stroke his cheek. A new assignment of the boundaries, of course. That meant that something was troubling Charlie. The Scientist sat up again, not to reach, but to show he had his undivided attention.

“Okay, so, okay. The last time I did this was with Mac?” Charlie started, making himself more comfortable. He kept a hold of the Scientist’s hand, patting it while he parsed out his thoughts.

“You painted Mac?” the Scientist asked, unable to stop himself before the question popped out. At least he kept that little inkling of jealousy out of his voice.

“What? No. No,” Charlie amended with a quick laugh. “No way. No, we were at this frat party thing and like, I know you’re a, uh, an…’academic.’” He smiled when the Scientist nodded, proving he had learned the word correctly. Always so proud of that. “Right, so, like, you know. And everything. And maybe you have frat parties on your campus?”

“Not that I would ever attend,” the Scientist said plainly.

“No, right, cause you’re a classy guy. I get that. But, well, either way, Mac and I went and they were doing this crazy painting party thing! And, like, we had these two chicks who let us paint them and they painted _us_ and it was….” Charlie smiled at the memory, a bit of a dopey schoolboy grin. “Oh, dude, it was so nice.”

“Ah well.” The Scientist didn’t want to draw his hand back, but he was not entirely thrilled that Charlie had apparently “partied” with a couple of co-eds. Considering Mac was involved, there had to be some nefarious scheme. “I’m…sure.”

“Yeah and then, right, then we were all going to shower together but we got kicked out before we got to do that, and we were pretty bummed, you know, because, showering with chicks was, like, I guess it was…you know. You know.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t,” the Scientist answered, his speech more clipped than he would have liked.

“Yeah, maybe not,” Charlie said, looking down at the mattress. He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. Maybe it was good that we didn’t though? Because, like, chicks that age, right? Dennis will be the first to show you, man, like, they’ll give you hickeys? And, like, it _looks_ almost _exactly_ like a lesion, dude, just. And I don’t mind painting and stuff, but I don’t want some college chick sucking a lesion onto my neck.”

“I would hope not.”

“Right?” Charlie smiled, even though the Scientist was still leaning back, not returning the gentle squeeze of his hand. “That’s, you know…. That’s….”

The Scientist sighed. It wasn’t entirely fair that he was being distant and jealous. While he had not been the first to participate in an activity like this with Charlie, it was clear that the moment was still special. And whenever he had done this with Mac and those college women, it was in the past. It had no part in their relationship now. It was just a moment that sparked an idea that Charlie wanted to share with him now and it had been absolutely lovely. So, no need to ruin it with some petty feelings.

The Scientist sat up again, holding Charlie’s hand, ready to apologize, when Charlie moved himself quite easily onto the Scientist’s lap. He grabbed onto the Scientist’s shoulders and pulled him up quickly for another impromptu kiss.

“Sorry, can I?” Charlie mumbled against the Scientist’s lips, only to be answered with an emphatic nod and another carding of his hair. “Okay, I forget to ask sometimes, and—”

The Scientist silenced him with a steady kiss, nuzzled into his beard, and pulling him down closer as he laid back on the towel. He enjoyed the steady weight atop him and Charlie used his balance to run his hands down the Scientist’s chest, smearing some of the paint. He made a short whine, disappointed he had mussed it up already, but his hands continued to explore as the Scientist kept him preoccupied. Entertained. Enraptured. Perhaps these were better suited descriptions of the Scientist, but, damnit, he was enjoying himself.

Perhaps too much, actually.

Another little tender bounce of Charlie’s hips timed with one particular graze of his fingers and the Scientist pulled back, eyes wide and face flushed bright red. There were rules in place for this and he was absolutely not about to break them just because he couldn’t keep certain anatomy in check.

“Charlie, I—”

“Shower with me,” Charlie said quickly.

The Scientist blinked, clearing his head. “I…what?”

“Take a shower with me,” he said, rocking his hips enough that the Scientist pushed his head back with a moan. Charlie bent down lower and cuddled his face into the Scientist’s long neck. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” It was quite unfair how strained his voice sounded.

“I said ‘please,’” Charlie pointed out. When the Scientist didn’t say anything, Charlie licked a tiny patch of skin and kissed it soon after. “Please?”

The Scientist giggled despite himself, rubbing Charlie’s back.

“Yes, my dear boy. No need to go for any of _that_ at the moment.”

Charlie sat back, keeping the Scientist pinned firmly to the mattress. He grinned, looking up at the ceiling in mock contemplation.

“Yeah, just kinda thought you might like it. Might be, mm…enticing?”

“You’re plenty enticing, Charlie.”

“And lovely?”

“Yes. Yes, and lovely, too.”

“And—”

“Did you want a shower, Charlie, or did you want me to drown you in compliments?” the Scientist asked, his voice raising an octave.

Charlie hummed, before he leaned down and planted a quick kiss. “Both.”

“You cheeky….”

\---

The fact that Charlie was offering to shower was not entirely lost on the Scientist. He supposed a part of it was still tied up in that memory of the painted co-eds and Mac, but he had to take some pride in the fact that Charlie felt comfortable enough to initiate this. There were plenty of confusing and upsetting memories tied up with showers in general and Charlie had done his level best to avoid them in the beginning.

Now, he was already turning the faucet on, testing the water as he got the spray going, and stood up when he was happy enough with the result. He turned back to the Scientist, reaching out a hand for him and casually glancing down at himself.

“Oh man. Good thing these are washable, huh?” he asked, looking at the paint on his shirt and jeans, not to mention all of it over his hands and face. And tongue, now that the Scientist was looking. He should mention that Charlie should not eat the paint.

“Yes, indeed, that’s why we got that brand.”

Charlie considered himself a moment before he peeled off his shirt, dropping it to the bathroom floor. He made to unbutton his jeans when he paused again and sheepishly glanced over at the Scientist. He had such a lovely pink coloring his cheeks and up to his ears.

“The offer still stands, Charlie. I can shower after you’re done.”

“Dude, no. I…I really want you to.” He sighed, fumbling with his button, his hands shaking a little. “I really, really want you to, I just….”

Before the distressed, slightly disgruntled sounds escalated into actual anger, the Scientist stepped forward and offered to help. Charlie sighed, dropping his hands, letting the tension out of his neck and shoulders at the same time. When the Scientist reached the button of his fly, Charlie’s hands jerked up to stop him, then softened, tugging him a little closer. Charlie nodded when he looked up, tentatively stretching closer until he got another kiss.

“Someone is being rather affectionate today,” the Scientist whispered gently.

“That’s…that’s okay though, right?”

The Scientist brushed back Charlie’s hair and planted another kiss squarely on his forehead. Charlie’s eyebrows wrinkled upwards in a question.

“Yes. It is.”

Undressing seemed the hardest part of it all. They were each shy about it, then taking steps to overcompensate by laughing, pushing aside the shower curtain, stepping in together and nearly colliding. More laughter to break the tension.

Charlie stood directly beneath the spray, his hair flat as water ran rivulets over the front of his face. The paint was already streaking down him in colorful lines, drawing their own temporary patterns. Almost like tattoos, though far more colorful than the poke-and-stick “BAD NEW” on his arm. He blew out through his mouth, spitting some, before he wiped his hair out of his face. Another pass over his bearded chin, revealing a wide, toothy grin—toothy for Charlie, at least.

The Scientist raised his hands to cup Charlie’s face only to have his path barred by Charlie’s forearms. He didn’t force the matter, slowly dropping his arms back to his side.

“Let me, uh. You know. Let me wash you. First,” Charlie said with another swipe of his hand over his beard.

 _Ah_. _He’s nervous_.

The Scientist nodded, flattening his hands firmly to his sides. He was listing all the things he could tell Charlie about how far he’d advanced and how this was just the sort’ve thing they needed for their Sunday and how creative he was and how kind and –

_Ooooooh._

The Scientist’s face flushed a dark red when he realized he had likely made that sound out loud. He looked down at Charlie, who had this terribly soft expression, the corners of his mouth drawing up in a slow smile as he realized what he had done and the Scientist just thought, well, maybe being swallowed up by a hole in the ground would actually be the best thing in the world. Or the showerhead’s pipe would burst and spear him through his skull, killing him instantly.

Charlie stepped into his space again and ran his hands down the Scientist’s chest, wiping away the layer of paint. He moved slowly, letting the water loosen it, and dragged his hand from shoulder, down his pecks, and swiping towards the side. The Scientist patted his thighs to keep his hands there, but it was becoming increasingly difficult not to reach up and grab Charlie’s shoulders for purchase. He bit his lip to shut himself up and looked up at the ceiling again.

“I kinda hate that we didn’t, like, get a picture,” Charlie said conversationally, pressing two fingers down the line of the Scientist’s chest. “But we still got plenty of paint. We could just do it again sometime.”

“Yes,” the Scientist answered, more breath than sound.

“And maybe you could paint me too, Doc?”

“God, yes,” the Scientist answered, swallowing hard. Charlie’s hand wandered down his stomach and the Scientist dug his fingernails into his thighs, eyes screwed shut again. “ _Yes_.”

But also _no._ No, because they had had a few roundabout discussions about this. No, because the Scientist did not want to make Charlie feel uncomfortable or used in any way and no because, well, because he was embarrassed by his body’s obvious betrayal and he had thought he had a bit more control over things. He–

“Hey, Doc?”

Charlie’s quiet question broke through the Scientist’s internal monologue. He opened his eyes, looking down as Charlie put both hands flat on the Scientist’s stomach.

“Y-Yes?”

Charlie stepped in a little closer, slotting himself up against the Scientist and ohhhh, _no_ , that was lovely, that was too much, that was just perfect.

“Look, Doc. I like you, okay?” The Scientist whimpered or laughed or somehow managed both. “Like, a lot, obviously. And. Like, I _know_ you like me too. And I know we’ve, like, we’ve said we’re boyfriends and stuff.”

Another squeaky moan of a laugh from the Scientist, but he nodded and bit his lip shut.

Charlie’s hands slipped around his waist and found each other again at the small of the Scientist’s back. He rested his cheek against the Scientist’s chest, ear pressed against his heart. He giggled and it vibrated through each of them. The Scientist relaxed, at least enough to lift his arms and drape them across Charlie’s back, petting down his hair and the water running down his spine.

“I love you, Charlie,” the Scientist said.

“I know,” Charlie mumbled against his chest. He tilted his head up, chin digging into the Scientist’s collarbone. “I love you too.”

“Oh, darling.”

The Scientist sighed, and kept running his fingers through Charlie’s hair, the last of the visible paint swirling towards the drain.

“Yeah,” Charlie said with a happy sigh. He put his cheek back down over the Scientist’s heart. “Also, you’re super fucking hard right now.”

There was a painful spike in his heartbeat and Charlie laughed, holding him firmly so he could continue listening.

“I’m terribly sorry! I, oh, I—”

“No, c’mon, man. Stop squirming. Please? I’m trying to listen,” said Charlie, rubbing the Scientist’s back. He realized that Charlie was mimicking what he had been doing in an attempt to soothe him and he spluttered nonsense noises up at the ceiling again. “You’re okay. I don’t mind.”

“You…you don’t?”

“Nah.” Charlie brought one of his hands back and tapped the Scientist’s chest in beat with his own racing heart. “Like I said. I really like you. Love you. And I’ve been kinda psyching myself up for this.”

“You shouldn’t have to—”

“Oh, it’s not a bad thing, man. I just. You know. You know, I gotta wrap my head around stuff sometimes. Gotta put it in, like, a, uh, a parachute. Para…gon.”

“Paradigm?”

“Shit, yeah! That’s the…I don’t even know if I’m using that word right or not.”

The Scientist reached up and captured Charlie’s hand, threading their fingers together so he could no longer tap on his chest. Not that he didn’t enjoy the sensation, but it was rather distracting. Charlie lifted his head again and the Scientist smiled.

When he opened his mouth to ask a question, Charlie quickly shouted, “Yes!” and pulled him down to kiss him again.

The fact that they were in the shower did not keep things chaste and dry for any amount of effort the Scientist might try to put into it. He cradled Charlie’s head with both hands, pressing up every inch of available skin to him like he meant to fuse them through some Velcro-like attachment of body hair and flesh. Charlie grabbed as well, first his head, then his jaw, his shoulders, his arms. He squeezed them and the Scientist could already hear his distracted compliment. For whatever reason, Charlie had it in his head that the Scientist had nice biceps, though he thought that was ridiculous. His hands wandered down, skimming his elbows, his ribs—oh, that tickled—and down to where they rested firmly on his hips. Charlie gave a firm squeeze, eliciting another muffled noise of approval from the Scientist. Eliciting a confused sound from Charlie. Eliciting a reaction from both as they carefully pulled apart, panting together.

“Are you alright?” the Scientist asked.

“Yeah.” Except that Charlie wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah. Just. I don’t. I don’t really know what I’m doing. This whole gay sex thing is way different than I thought. For starters, I didn’t think we’d be facing each other.”

The Scientist laughed despite himself, covering his face with the back of his hand.

“What?” Charlie finally looked up, smiling as well, even if he looked a little lost and hopeful all in one go. “No, what?”

“I’m sorry to say this,” the Scientist said, still giggling into the back of his hand. “You’re just terribly adorable sometimes.”

“Terribly?” Charlie asked with a little scowl, sagging his shoulders.

“Yes, terribly.”

“Man, I was going for, like, gargantuanly or, like, stupendously or something.”

“God, Charlie.” The Scientist laughed harder into his hand until he felt a tentative squeeze at his hips again. He hummed, swallowing his laughter, resting his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Fine. Yes. Stupendously too.”

While the praise was welcomed and made him beam again, it wasn’t the answer Charlie was looking for. The Scientist blinked through the splash-back spray of water, trying to figure out what Charlie wanted when he felt his hips cant up against the Scientist’s. The Scientist’s mouth went slack, a soft “o” shape before he licked his lips.

“Charlie.”

The Scientist moaned, and Charlie captured him again in a quick, desperate little kiss. He nudged his chin against the Scientist and asked simply, “Please?”

“Water is not…it’s not a proper lubricant, Charlie. We—”

“Please?” he asked again, this time directly against the Scientist’s throat.

God. _Yes_ , please.

Charlie’s fingers pinched in on the Scientist’s hips. The Scientist kissed him, both a distraction and to ground them. He reached down, taking a hold of Charlie’s erection, and thought his legs would give out completely when he felt the shorter man moan shaky vowels against his throat.

“You’re very good,” the Scientist said, kissing his eyelids as he attempted to find a good grip or rhythm. “You’re absolutely lovely. So very handsome.”

It was the babbling of a man who was very much aroused and very much in love and didn’t know how to slip in anything erotic into his speech to save his goddamn life. But Charlie keened and whimpered, rubbing erratic patterns into the Scientist’s hips and back. The Scientist shivered too, using his fist, Charlie’s cock, and the scant distance between them to buck up against Charlie as he stroked him in a firm, even grip.

“Oh god, you’re…you’re… _kind_. And I love…I love...so artistic. I love when you serenade me.”

Charlie pitched his voice up and scrabbled to grab the Scientist’s shoulders. His hips shot up against the Scientist, his face disappearing from his view as Charlie dug into his neck. He wouldn’t even mind the beard burn later.

“I love…when you show me…anything new. C-Cooking a…and your love…oh fuck, darling. And…and you’re the best…the best at—”

There was some distant concern that the neighbors might call them out for a certain noise violation as Charlie shouted out a throaty cry when he came. He tensed so hard around the Scientist, vibrating through his orgasm, enough that the Scientist could continue to pump his fist just enough and push himself over the edge with the word, “Charlie,” slipping perfectly out of his mouth. The cry died down to silence. Charlie’s fists shook behind the Scientist’s head, his knees weak, and he almost slid down if not for the Scientist’s hand firmly wrapped around his waist.

“Very good,” he whispered, kissing feverishly at his forehead. “Very good. You did very good, Charlie.”

They said nothing for a time. Charlie was quiet, his breath slower and slower as he let the water wash them off. The Scientist kept quiet too, letting Charlie recover. He held onto him, of course, because he looked close to collapsing. He didn’t bother with the shampoo and soap. They could have a proper shower tomorrow before work.

“Doc?” Charlie asked after a time and the Scientist was so relieved to hear him, he gasped.

“Yes, my dear boy?”

“Can we, like, can we go to bed?” Charlie looked up, blinking slow, his pupils large and brows soft with exhaustion. “I’m really tired.”

“I can put you to bed,” the Scientist agreed. “Did you want me to get you anything for dinner?”

“No.” Charlie shook his head, blinking, and looked up. “If you’re hungry, yes. But. I just wanna sleep.”

“That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine.”

“Terribly fine,” Charlie mumbled and laughed.

They shut off the water, and the Scientist got them towels to dry off. He helped Charlie out of the shower, wrapping him up as they brushed their teeth—“Do we have to?” “Yes, of course we have to.” “Uuugh, it’s a good thing I love you, dude.”—and went back to the bedroom.

Charlie went straight to the mattress and flopped down, disregarding everything they had left there for their painting activity. The little tubes of paint jumbled together when they were disturbed by Charlie’s body weight. Yellow had been left uncapped and threatened to spill onto the mattress. The Scientist quickly scooped everything up, found the cap on the floor, and replaced it. It would not do well to have the paint dry out before they had another chance to use it. He grabbed up the towel from his side of the bed as well, and put them all in the hamper. The paints went back into the plastic bag and were stored away in the closet. Safe and sound.

The Scientist was at his dresser, sorting through a pair of pyjamas for Charlie and himself.

“Charlie, do you want the flannel bottoms tonight?” he asked absently over his shoulder. When there was no response, he turned to look at the bed. “Charlie?”

Charlie shifted to his side, holding an arm out and flapping his hand in a familiar grabbing motion. The Scientist chuckled, pushing the drawer shut. He had a pair of boxers he slipped into, another in hand in the event that Charlie wanted them as well, but he was quickly strong-armed onto the mattress by his sleepy boyfriend. Before he could protest, Charlie wrapped himself up around the Scientist, pushing his face back in against the Scientist’s neck. He sighed, a puff of warm air against his skin.

“Do you want any pyjamas tonight?”

Charlie shook his head.

“No?”

Charlie nodded.

“Do you mind if I read a little?”

Charlie shook his head again and the Scientist stroked back down his damp hair. He stretched up and grabbed a heavily dog-eared book off the nightstand, settling in amongst the pillow on his side as Charlie made himself comfortable again. He started reading to himself, feeling a light jab in his rib.

“Would you like me to read to you?” he asked without looking up and smiled when he felt that little head bob again.

The Scientist flipped back a few pages, picking up where the last dog-eared page and a plain yellow sticky note had left off for him. Charlie would get frustrated if they had to repeat lines, given that he hadn’t been able to read “for so long, dude! I don’t have time to repeat!” So, he made certain they kept track of things whenever they read together.

“Alright. ‘Many people experience a stirring sense of wonder when they first confront this simple truth. Why? Why should it be so compelling? On our little world light travels, for all practical purposes, instantaneously. If a lightbulb….’”

There was eventually light snoring and a decidedly less firm grip around the Scientist’s middle as Charlie drifted off. The Scientist flipped ahead again, reading to himself until his eyes started to droop. He marked the book, one dog ear for himself, the other for the last place that Charlie had left off on, and set it back down on the nightstand. He reached for the light, turning back to kiss Charlie, and noticed the little splatter of blue paint left behind one of his ears. He smiled, kissed the tiny reminder of their day together, and shut off the light.

**Author's Note:**

> They're reading Carl Sagan's Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future In Space.


End file.
